Mama's Boy (5 page)

9

T
ension had set up camp in the Jones household. Elton was still seething that Gloria hadn't initially told him about Jamal. Or maybe he was angry because she had talked him into letting Jamal go out in the first place. Or maybe it was the embarrassment that he hated most. Since the police had identified Jamal, the Joneses had been subjected to hate mail, their telephone rang constantly, and the media stayed camped out in front of their home.

And Elton resented every minute of it.

When the media came, so did the Black Panthers, and the Ku Klux Klan. The outrage far outweighed the support. Even some of their own church members had turned their backs and tried and convicted Jamal. There were supporters—many of whom they didn't even know—coming to Jamal's defense before even hearing his side of the story. The color lines had been drawn.

“Gloria!”

The sound of her husband's voice shook Gloria out of her
trance. She set the mop down and rushed into the living room. “Yes. What's wrong?”

He looked flustered and irritated as he tossed his sports coat across the sofa.

“Dang reporters blocking my driveway!” he snapped.

“What are you doing back?” She'd been grateful when he left about thirty minutes earlier. She was going to take Jamal some food, money, and clothes, but she already had to figure out how to get around the cop parked outside, she didn't need to have to figure out how to get away from Elton, too.

“I forgot the papers for the budget meeting. This nonsense with Jamal has me all discombobulated.” Elton was shaking.

“You sure you're okay?” she asked.

“No,” he huffed. “I'm worried sick about that boy. I know we haven't had the best of relationships lately, but I don't want any harm to come to him. Deacon Wade said rumor around the police station is that the cop who finds Jamal will get a bonus if he brings Jamal back—in a body bag.”

Gloria gasped, clutched her chest, and fell back against the wall.

“Now, now,” Elton said. “I'm sure it's just rumors.”

“What if it's not?” she said. “They don't want my son alive. They don't even know what happened and they're out for my baby's blood.”

“They know what happened,” Elton said. “They got him on ­videotape, Gloria.”

“You know Jamal, Elton. You know he's not a murderer. It was an accident.”

He paused and looked at her. “Is that what his friends told you?”
This was the first time he'd asked her anything about her visit with Brian.

“Brian told me. But he didn't have to because I know my son.”

Elton shook his head. “Well, all I know is ever since he started hanging around those boys, he's been headed for nothing but trouble.”

Gloria knew that she needed to tread lightly, but after hours of blaming herself, she wanted to share some of the blame. “Have you ever thought if we had tried to be there for him and not chastised him so much, he wouldn't have been caught up in something like this?”

“No, ma'am,” Elton snapped. He wagged a finger in her direction. “You will not make this about me. Every mistake that boy makes is of his own accord. I kept my foot on him to keep him on the straight and narrow and it didn't do any good.”

This wasn't the time to get Elton riled up again. “What do you think they're going to do when they catch him? Do you really think that stuff about the body bag is just talk?”

That caused him to stop his rant. The look on his face sent a ripple of fear through her body.

Elton released a defeated sigh. “Well, I called Perry,” he said, referring to their old attorney. “Even though he doesn't practice anymore, he still has connections.”

“What did he say?”

Elton looked like he was weighing his words. “Gloria, it's probably best that you don't know,” he finally said.

The look on his face caused her voice to rise an octave. “What did he say?” she repeated.

Elton Jones faced his wife. “The police are indeed out for blood, Gloria. Perry said the cop that died was a well-liked veteran police officer. I just wish I knew exactly what happened. How Jamal could do something like this.”

Gloria's first instinct was to confess everything, tell him where their son was so he could talk to Jamal himself. But something wouldn't let the words escape from her mouth.

Elton let out a long, disheartened sigh. “Perry said when they find him, if they don't kill him first, they will be going for the death penalty.”

Those words caused her to lose her balance. She fell against the sofa and Elton's rarely seen sympathetic side sprang to the forefront.

“It's okay, honey.” He took her into his arms. “God's got this. He's not gonna let them hurt our son. Prayerfully, we'll make it through.”

It felt good to have her husband hold her and although she didn't really believe his words, she relished the rare time of togetherness. So much so, that at that moment Gloria wanted to take Elton straight to Naomi's to see their son. But just as quickly as the thought entered her mind, she reminded herself that Elton would demand they go directly to jail.

Death by cop or death by the state. Her son's options were slim.

After a few silent minutes, Elton said, “Do I need to call someone to come sit with you? I have to get back to the budget meeting.”

She wanted to scream at him, “Screw that church!” For once she wanted him to put his son first, but right now, she needed her husband gone so she could think with a clear head. That way, she could figure out her next move.

“You go on. I'll be okay,” Gloria finally said. “Mama should be over any minute now.”

“I love you.” He planted a kiss on her forehead.

“And I love you, too,” she said, trying her best not to break out in tears.

“We'll get through this. We'll find our son and we'll get through this,” Elton said, stroking her hair.

She nodded. Even though she'd found Jamal, she wasn't at peace. In fact she didn't know if she'd ever be at peace again.

Gloria had just closed her eyes when she heard Elton say, “Hello, Mama Hurley.”

“Elton.”

Gloria's mother didn't say anything else as she made her way inside. She had never been a fan of Elton. By now he was used to her cold and condescending ways. He didn't like it, but over the years he had learned to live with it.

“Hey, Mama,” Gloria said.

“Hey, baby,” Erma said as she set her designer bag on the coffee table. At seventy-eight, she still had her independent streak and in fact had moved to Houston three years ago when she married her third husband. That marriage had only lasted eight months because she said she wasn't “anybody's maid.” She'd gotten the house in the divorce and had stayed in Houston and only came to Jasper once a month to see family and friends.

“Did they catch my fugitive grandson?” she asked. Erma Hurley was one of those old people who say what they want, whenever they want. But Gloria wasn't in the mood for any quips about her son.

“No, Mama.”

“Hmph. Better not let me know where he is. The news said they got a reward for five thousand dollars.”

Gloria side-eyed her mother. “So, you would turn your own grandson in for five thousand dollars?”

“Hell! I'll turn him in for some bingo chips.” She strutted her petite frame into the kitchen.

Gloria shook her head. Unfortunately her mother wasn't joking. She didn't play when it came to the law. She turned her own brother in when he robbed a bank saying she had “no tolerance for criminals.”

“Well, it's not all that it seems,” Gloria said.

Her mother reappeared in the den, a glass of tea in her hand. “Seems like to me he shot a cop.”

“No. On the video, you heard some ruffling and you heard a gunshot go off. But you don't know who shot whom.”

Erma sat down across from her daughter. “I'll take the dead cop as the one who got shot for one hundred, Alex.”

“This isn't funny, Mama. It was an accident.”

“I'm not laughing, Gloria.” Erma sipped her tea. “And how you know what happened? Were you there? No, you weren't. The only way you know what happened”—she stopped, studied Gloria, then slowly went on—“is if you talked to him.” She peered at her daughter again. “Gloria Hurley Jones, you know where that boy is, don't you?”

Gloria looked away. “Mama, I went to the jail to talk to Jamal's friends, the boys that were with him that night. They told me it was an accident.”

Erma cocked her head, studied Gloria for a minute. Finally, she said, “Then why couldn't you look me in my face and say that? Why'd you have to walk away?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” She busied herself by opening her curio cabinet and straightening her Annie Lee figurines.

“I bet you don't,” her mother replied. “That's why at this very moment, you have to adjust your dolls instead of look me in my face and talk to me.”

“These are not dolls, Mama.”

“And you're not being truthful.”

Gloria sighed, closed the cabinet, then turned around. Even though she was almost fifty herself, Gloria still had a hard time lying to her mother.

Erma stood, walked over, and took Gloria's chin in her hand. She looked her daughter straight in the eyes. “You never was a good liar. Look here, I know you love that boy from the bottom of your soul, but don't let him ruin your life.”

Gloria pulled her chin away. “Mama, you don't know what you're talking about. And you're the one always talking about how you'd do anything for your kids.”

“I sure would, except break the law. I'm too old and too pretty to be in jail. Now those folks are going to string that boy up and if you get in the way, they're going to string you up, too.”

“So, Mama, what am I supposed to do? Just hand Jamal to them?” Gloria whispered. She didn't believe her house was bugged, but she could never be too sure.

“I can't believe that Reverend Do Right, I'm sorry Do Right
Now,
is going along with this,” Erma said, going back to her seat.

Gloria didn't reply.

Erma stopped just before sitting down. “Holy Mother of Mary. He doesn't know, does he?” That made Erma laugh. “It took your son killing a cop for you to finally stand up to that man.”

“Mama, me keeping a secret from him doesn't mean I'm standing up to him.”

“Well, at least you aren't being his puppet for a change.”

That was another discussion she wasn't going to have with her mother.

“I'm just trying to figure out what to do.”

Erma threw up her hands to stop Gloria from talking. “You know what? Don't tell me nothing else. I don't want to have to testify against you. So, I don't know nothing about nothing.” Erma picked up the remote. “I wonder is
Jeopardy!
on yet.”

10

T
here was something about family dinners that brought Kay joy. Probably because it was something she didn't have growing up. Kay used to watch those people on
Leave It to Beaver
and other popular TV shows where they all sat down as a family, and feel a longing inside. As an only child, she was often left alone to eat by herself. Her father was always too busy at church and after her six-year-old brother drowned, Kay's mother was always in a state of depression in her room. So everyone ate their food in solitude.

That's why Kay told Phillip from the beginning that despite their hectic schedules, she wanted to make sure that they sat down together and ate as a family at least once a week. It was a tradition that Phillip had gladly upheld, especially because most of the time Selena prepared an awesome meal and all they had to do was sit down and enjoy it.

“So, Mommy, can I go to the fair on Saturday?” Leslie asked. “Pretty please with a strawberry on top?”

“I told you I would think about it. We'll see if Daddy can get
off and make it a family thing,” Kay said, blowing a kiss at her husband.

“Yay,” Leslie said, clapping her hands.

“Ryan, are you okay?” Kay asked. He had been picking over his food. He was probably bummed out because he got a B on a test or something. Bad grades usually sent him into a state of depression.

“I'm cool,” he mumbled.

Kay turned to her husband and smiled. “He's cool.”

Phillip shook his head. “One day we'll get an extensive conversation out of our son.”

“He talks to Charlie,” Kay joked. Charlie was Ryan's best friend. And since Charlie's mother, Camille, was her best friend, Kay was happy that the two boys were so close.

“But we're not cool like Charlie.” Phillip laughed.

Ryan rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

“Oh yeah, babe, congratulations to you,” Phillip told his wife. “I saw the case with Dwayne Murphy. I knew they'd give him life.”

“What? You approve of a life sentence?” Kay joked.

“Hey, I have no problem with locking up criminals who commit heinous crimes. It's the young boys I have an issue with.”

They did discuss cases after they were over so Kay didn't mind telling her husband about this one. “It is really sad. Dwayne has four sons, two of whom have already been in jail. So the cycle will just continue.”

“Yeah,” Phillip replied, his mood turning melancholy, “that's why I do what I do. Hoping to stop the cycle. I just wish there was some kind of way we could give these boys better opportunities.”

“I do, too,” Kay said, “but some people you just can't help. They don't want to be helped. Now the case you just wrapped up,” she
continued, “that boy, he deserved a second chance. So, I'm glad you got him off.”

Phillip had also emerged victorious in a case against an honor roll student who was shot after police mistook his black marker for a gun.

“Just curious, why do you think he deserves a second chance?” Phillip asked.

“Because that cop was trigger happy, with a history of complaints, and that boy just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Phillip let out a deep sigh. “That's what I'm trying to tell you, there are a lot of boys in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“There is a difference. Take Trayvon Martin,” Kay countered. “He didn't deserve what he got at all. He was minding his business. Michael Brown, on the other hand, he took some cigars.”

Phillip looked at her, stunned. “
Alleged
to have taken some cigars, which the police officer reportedly didn't know at the time. Regardless, you think that was worth him dying over?”

“Absolutely not,” Kay said. “Make no mistake about that, but what we have to get these young boys to understand is that when you place yourself in these precarious positions, then you're asking for trouble; right or wrong, you give people reason to justify shooting.”

“It's so much deeper than that, Kay. I don't know if you could even understand. I would think with the number of young men you see coming through your courtroom, you'd be a little more sympathetic.”

“No, I'm actually able to look at it from the other side because I've seen several young men who have been given chance after chance. Men who tried to use the ‘system wronged me' excuse and then they got right back out there and did the same thing.”

“Well, there's a number of reasons; lack of jobs, for one.”

“Okay, we're not gonna start with the ‘I got an excuse 'cause the white man keeping me down.' It's time we stop waiting for other people to lift us up and try to lift ourselves up,” Kay replied.

“This conversation is soooo boring,” Leslie chimed in. “Can we talk about something else?”

Phillip and Kay looked at each other and smiled. Their daughter was right. Their passionate debates were one thing they loved about each other, but this was family time.

“What would you like to talk about, Sweet Pea?” Phillip asked.

“Justin Bieber,” she answered, her eyes wide with excitement.

“Really?” Phillip raised an eyebrow at his wife. “Why is our four-year-old into Justin Bieber?”

“Just be glad it's not Chris Brown or someone like that.”

“I don't want my four-year-old into anything but
Teletubbies,
” Phillip said.

“What's a Teletubby?” Leslie asked.

Phillip and Kay laughed. They really were out of touch. That had been Ryan's favorite cartoon when he was a little boy. It was at that point when Kay noticed Ryan hadn't said a word as he sat picking over his food.

“Are you sure you're okay, Ryan?” Kay asked.

“Yeah,” he replied.

“You don't look okay,” Phillip said. “Son, how's school going?”

“It's all right.”

“Well, did you make the lacrosse team?”

“Nah,” he said. “I didn't try out. I was thinking it would take away too much time from my schoolwork.”

As much as she loved her stepson and how studious he was, Kay
really did wish he would learn to relax and have some fun. Maybe she'd look into taking him and Charlie to an upcoming concert or something. She needed to show Ryan how to enjoy his childhood and just have fun.

“So, is it your night to do the dishes? Or is it mine?” Kay said, as she stood and started clearing the table.

A mischievous grin spread across Phillip's face. “How about we do them together and then go find some way to entertain ourselves later?”

“Ugh,” Ryan said. “Can you two not?”

Kay giggled.

“How are you going to entertain yourselves?” Leslie asked. “Can I come, too?”

“No, sweetie. That's Mommy and Daddy time,” Kay replied.

“On that note,” Ryan said, standing up, “I'm out.” He pushed away from the table and walked off.

Phillip lost his smile. “You know,” he said to Kay, “I'm a little worried about him.”

“Oh, you know your son. It's probably nothing,” Kay said, dismissing his concern. “When it comes to Ryan Christiansen, you don't have anything at all to worry about.”

That was one thing Kay was willing to put money on.